Keeping Keppler
by the-dark-knightess
Summary: Sierra McGregor wasn't looking for love in Vegas. She was there because Horatio sent her. She was there to work. But that couldn't stop the emotions. And the emotions couldn't stop the bullet. Michael Keppler/OC, during Grissom's season 7 sabbatical
1. Chapter 1

I wasn't expecting for Horatio to tell me I was going to Vegas to work with their CSI team while our psychologist attended a seminar…I wasn't expecting to be warmly welcomed…I wasn't expecting all the drama I found myself caught up in…I wasn't expecting to fall in love…but it happened.

I was in my SUV headed towards the Miami crime lab one morning when my phone buzzed. I flipped it open and answered, "McGregor."

"Good morning, Sierra," Horatio greeted me.

"Morning, H. What's up?"

"Where are you?"

"About half-way to the lab. Why?"

"I need you to go home and pack enough clothes to last you about a month. You're going to Vegas."

"Um…sir?"

"You heard me. It is work related, so pack appropriately."

"Hold on, Horatio! What's going on? Why am I going to Vegas?"

"Our psychologist is attending a seminar and the Vegas night shift CSI's are one short. Gil Grissom has gone on a sabbatical. I called and told them I'd send an officer."

"Why me?"

"Because I trust you to represent us well."

"Calliegh can do that!"

"Sierra, don't argue. Have you turned around yet?"

"Yes."

"Go home. Get your stuff. Your plane leaves Ft. Lauderdale at 1pm."

"I guess I should say thank you."

"You're welcome. Call me and tell me how it goes."

"Sure. Bye, Horatio."

"Goodbye, Sierra."

I clicked my phone shut and chuckled to myself. I was going to Vegas.

**Ok, skip ahead a few hours, then lose about three**

We landed in Las Vegas around 2:35pm local time. The psychologist had arranged to be transported to her seminar and she told me that someone was supposed to meet me. I looked around the terminal and finally saw a man holding a sign with my name on it. The psychologist bid me farewell and good luck. I returned the well wishes and then started towards my greeter.

He was tall. I estimated between 6'1" and 6'4". He had close cut, brown curly hair and amazing blue eyes. He seemed very awkward just standing there looking for me. I finally got to him and held out a hand. "Hi. Sierra McGregor." He took my hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Michael Keppler. Welcome to Las Vegas…not that I have much room to talk. I just got here myself last week."

"Where from?"

"Baltimore, Philadelphia before that, and Trenton before that."

"Fellow east coaster! Very cool. So, you work in the crime lab here I assume."

"Yeah. They hired me for dayshift, but when the Grissom guy left, I got moved to nights."

"Oh? That's who I thought I was supposed to be making up for."

He shrugged. "I'm just glad I'm not the only newbie on the team."

I smiled up at him. "Same here." An awkward silence followed in which I kicked the toe of my boot against the carpet and he just kind of tapped a beat on the paper he had been holding.

"So…" he started, "should we go get your stuff?"

"Yeah, probably." We started towards baggage claim.

"Hey, do you have somewhere to stay?"

"I was told a Sara would be boarding me up."

"Oh yeah. Sara's a nice girl." He yawned and I suddenly realized that this was his 2:45am.

"My god, they sent you after me when you should be sleeping?"

"I volunteered. You seemed worth the late bed time."

"That is a compliment, right?"

"Yes," he answered with a small laugh. It was a very pleasant small laugh and I found myself marveling over it all the rest of the way to baggage claim. I got my bags and started towards the doors, but Michael called, "No way!"

"What?" I asked quickly, afraid I'd done something wrong.

"You are not carrying those bags. Give them here." He took them from me and marched off. I was just a little shocked and I barely heard myself say thanks before realizing I hadn't followed him and running to catch up.

I followed him to his car and quietly observed him. He had on a suit. It was a nice one that was just starting to show a night's wear. His tie was a wee bit crooked and his collar appeared to have either coffee, tea, or syrup making a deeper and deeper stain with every minute that passed. I wasn't used to seeing CSIs in suits and I was a little worried that maybe this was how they functioned here.

I slid in the passenger side of his SUV and waited a little self-consciously as he put my stuff in the trunk and came around to his side. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and jumped in. As he started the car, he said, "I'm supposed to take you back to the lab. Sara already went home, so you can hang out there if you want. Catch a few winks."

"My sleeping schedule is so screwed for the next few days."

"Yes it is. I'm only just now getting used to it myself. You have a few difficult days ahead of you. But, don't worry. The guys here are really pretty nice."

I nodded, but said nothing.

During the drive, I kept looking at him out of the corner of my eye. He drove with one hand on the wheel, nonchalant and calm. He looked very tired, and I felt guilty for keeping him from sleeping. The suit thing kept bugging me, so I finally asked, "Um, do you guys where suits around here? I didn't bring any. We're a little more lax in Miami."

He did a little chuckle/snort thing that was amazingly cute and answered, "No, that's just me. Everyone here is a little perturbed by it too. Don't feel awkward."

I sighed in relief and answered, "Good. I was getting worried."

He looked over at me and smiled. "Don't do that. You'll be fine." We pulled into the lab's parking lot and he stopped by the door. "I'd offer to let you hang out at my place, but I wouldn't be great company. Sleeping people usually aren't…but I do have a TV."

"Can I please? What the hell am I supposed to do in the lab?"

"You're right. Come on." He put the vehicle back in gear and U-turned back to the road. We got to his apartment building and got out. "Just leave your stuff in the trunk unless you need it."

"Do you have WiFi?"

"Yeah, actually. I was surprised."

I chuckled and got my laptop out of my suitcase, then I followed him up to his apartment. He unlocked the door, then held it open for me. I smiled in thanks and walked past him through the door. I accidentally brushed against him as I went by and I hurried on before anything could be said. I had no idea why I felt so self-conscious around this guy. I wasn't usually like this, but there was something about him that totally threw me off guard. I placed myself on his couch and kicked off my shoes. He started shedding his suit and said, "I'm going to bed. I get up at about 5. I usually leave at 6. You clock in at 6:30 too right?"

"Yes. I'll be ready to go when you are. Do you mind if I get a shower?"

"Not at all. Make yourself at home. There's some soda in the fridge and if you get hungry…I wish you good luck finding food."

I smiled up at him. "Thanks, Michael."

"Oh, geez. Call me Mike. Please."

"Sorry, Mike. Sleep well."

"Thanks. See you in a bit." He went off to his room, and I watched him go. He had an almost strut to his gait, but it wasn't cocky. It was just a natural thing…and I thought it was cute. Then I realized what I was thinking and shook my head.

"No, Sierra," I whispered to myself. "You've known him for a total of an hour and a half. Nothing he does is cute."

Dear goodness, was I ever wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

I surfed the internet for a little bit until I thought it would be a good time to call home. I called Horatio first and told him I had arrived safely, then I called Eric. He was my best friend and talking to him always calmed me down. "Hey, Eric, it's Sierra."

"Hey, chick. How's Vegas?"

"Relatively welcoming. I'm at a guy's house waiting for night shift right now. He's asleep."

"Night shift, huh? Have fun adjusting to the sleeping patterns."

"I know. I'm dreading it."

"You'll be fine. You cope really well with stress."

"Ha! You dated me for a year. You know that's not true!"

"I'm trying to make you feel a little more sure of yourself. Help me out."

"Sorry, Eric. You're right. I can do this."

"Yes, you can. Horatio didn't send you for no good reason. But anyway, whose house are you at?"

"A guy named Michael Keppler. He's new here too. It was either that or stay at the lab, and what was I supposed to do there? He's got WiFi."

"Ooh. Snazzy."

"Considering the apartment building he's holed up in, yeah, it kind of is. I'm making use of it."

"Did you take your webcam? We could skype."

"I didn't bring it. I regret it now though."

"It's no use regretting it now, silly."

"I know. I just wanted you to know. I need to get a shower before Michael…oh, wrong…Mike, gets up. I'll call you later in the week, ok?"

"Ok, Sierra. You take care of yourself. Don't let this Mike guy pull any charms on you."

"I...I'm not staying with him permanently. Just today."

"Mhm."

"Shut up, Eric!"

"Bye!"

"Hey! No you don't!" He hung up. I sighed and put my phone away, then got in the shower. I wasn't taking a full blown one considering I hadn't brought any new clothes in with me. I just wanted to freshen up a bit. I jumped in and rinsed down, letting the water run though my hair and detangle it a little bit. I got out and found a towel under the sink and dried off, then put my clothes back on. Once I had done that, I looked for a brush or something to run through my hair. I couldn't find one, so I opened the bathroom door to go get the little one out of my purse, and I nearly smacked right into Mike. He was rubbing his eyes and clumsily stumbled backwards. "Oh, sorry!"

"That's ok. Are you done in there?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Sor…um, ok." He smiled warmly at me and I couldn't stop my heart from speeding up a bit. I got out of his way and went back to the couch to brush through my hair. Mike was in the shower for about fifteen minutes and then he came out and went back to his room. By 5:45 he was already ready to go.

"You want to go get something to eat before we head in?"

"Sure. What is there around here?"

"Not a lot. Mostly fast food joints. There is a little diner I go to for dinner, but that's about it." I nodded and followed him back to his car.

"Hey, do you know if I get a vehicle while I'm here?"

"I'm sure you do. You can't be expected to run with someone else the whole time."

"Ok."

We stopped at McDonalds and got some food, then headed to the lab. I couldn't help but sigh when I was out of the car. Being so close to Mike intimidated me and made me feel far too self-conscious for my own good. I hurried up the steps and into the lab, but then I realized I had no idea where to go, so I ended up having to wait for Mike anyway. He showed me to our branch of the building. He saw a woman and called, "Catherine! I got the new girl!"

The woman he called Catherine came over and shook my hand. "Hi. I'm Catherine. You're Sierra, right?"

"Yup! That's me. Pleasure to meet you."

"Same. I hope you came prepared to work. We have a case."

"Oh, I'm ready."

A guy came over and asked, "You the new girl?"

I laughed and answered, "Yeah. Sierra McGregor."

"Hello. Nick Stokes." We shook hands. "You got a vehicle?"

"Not yet."

"Then you ride with me. We're going out to the scene."

"Yes, sir." I said with a playful salute.

"Don't call me sir. It makes me feel old."

"Sorry." I remembered Mike's warning to stop apologizing and I glanced at him. He was smiling quietly to himself.

On the drive out to the crime scene, Nick and I got to know each other a little bit. He seemed really cool and he reminded me of Eric. I knew we would get along.

We got out to the scene and found a man dead in his car, shot through the head and shot in the back. A cup was discarded where another car had been. There were drugs in the victim's car. He turned out to be a huge anti-drug activist named Danilo Zamesca…so the question actually came up…why where there drugs in his car?

I walked around the scene taking pictures, and I stopped when I found a small piece of foam on the ground. Nick came over and stated the obvious, "It looks like some kind of foam."

"I found it next to the tire track. I'm going to get a cast of this track too." He nodded and left me to it. While I was waiting for the stuff to set, someone else came over and introduced themselves.

"Hi. I'm Captain Jim Brass. Welcome to Las Vegas, Ms. McGregor."

"Thanks. I'm excited to be here. We hear a lot about you guys in Miami. Never thought I'd actually get the chance to work with you."

"Oh, we get more acclaim than we deserve, I think."

"Ah, that remains to be seen. You may underestimate yourself." My cast finished and Nick was headed back to the lab to run the prints on the cup, so I got up and left with him. He had the bullet casing with him too, so I went to analyze that while he ran prints. I took the results back to him.

"Huh. Interesting."

"What?"

"The prints are Thomas Simon's and this bullet matches some casings we got from a raid of his mansion a while back."

"Look like we have our first suspect."

"Makes sense. Thomas Simon is a major dealer around here. Our vic tried to put him out of business and it cost him his life. I'm gonna call Brass." He left the room to call.

As soon as he was gone, my phone rang. "McGregor."

"Sierra, it's Catherine. I got a vehicle lined up for you, and I need you to use it. The under-Sherriff wants you to meet us for supper. I'll text you the address."

"Supper as in now, or right after we go off shift?"

She chuckled and answered, "After shift. Sorry. I forget that you're still a creature of the day."

"Alright. I'll see you later then."

"Yeah. Hey, go down to car rentals and tell them I sent you. They'll know what to give you."

"Thanks."

"Bye!"

I did what she said and got set up with a sharp Ford Escape. I spent the rest of the evening running ballistics and fingerprints for Nick. By the time "supper" came around, I was exhausted and in need of sleep. I wasn't really sure about meeting the under-Sherriff in this state of being. I found the restaurant Catherine told me about and went in. I faltered a moment when I saw Mike there too. Catherine and Brass were sitting with him. There was a free seat between Catherine and Mike, so I was forced to take it. I sat down and smiled over at Catherine. "How'd your first day, well, your first night go?"

"Very well. I haven't met everybody, but those I have have been very welcoming."

"Good. Oh, here's the under-Sherriff." A man walked in and greeted everyone and offered his welcome to me.

"Welcome to Vegas. Always good to have another skilled CSI on duty around here."

"I'm happy to be here, sir." We ordered our food and sat down to talk about the case.

"So, the biggest drug supplier on the west coast kills a public official…and we can't find him. I'm just the under-Sherriff. I have one job: make the Sherriff look smart. You're not helping."

Catherine said, "Science can only do so much with a cold trail."

"You ever seen a man's face change into that kind of a demon?"

"My eggs are runny," Mike cut in. "I should've been more specific with the waitress." He looked around for the girl, while I simply stared at him. Finally, after no luck finding the waitress, he looked at Brass's full and barely touched plate and asked, "Are you going to eat those?"

"You want mine? Here, knock yourself out."

"Thank you." They traded plates.

The under-Sherriff glanced between the two of them, and then continued, "I don't hear a solution." Nobody answered him. I kept my eyes down, trying to stay out of it.

Finally, Mike said, "We could try something I did in Philly. It's, um, a little unorthodox."

"I only want to know if it works."

"Philly, yes. Baltimore, no."

"Is that why you're in Vegas?" I teased. He smiled.

The under-Sherriff said, "50/50. I can live with those odds."

"You waiting for a drum-roll?" Brass asked.

"It's called reverse forensics," Mike said.

"Oh, we fake a crime scene," Catherine interjected.

"Basically."

"How do we get around entrapment?" the under-Sherriff inquired.

"Well, it's not entrapment if you're not enticing anyone to commit a crime. The goal is to make Simon think he's off the hook."

"What's the catch?" Brass asked.

"The whole thing's a catch. The hardest part is stopping leaks. You have to be willing to deceive the people you work with."

Catherine added, "Assuming they can be deceived…which they can't."

"That's not your call," the under-Sherriff told her.

I shook my head. "I can think of 9...10 ways that this could screw up…at least."

"So, don't screw up."

Mike gave me a look that sort of said, burn!!!!, before going on. "The first thing we need is a victim. Somebody we own. We need a fall-guy to be the killer. Somebody who's willing to have his mug shot everywhere. In Baltimore we used a snitch, so you're going to have to bring the DA into this."

"DA? That bitch won't like it." He got up and pat Mike on the back. "Thanks for breakfast."

Mike smiled politely, then waited until the guy was gone to say, "Have you ever noticed how the guys with the most money are the ones that never pay?"

Brass grinned and answered, "Well, that's how they keep all the money. Here." He tried to hand Mike a twenty.

"No, I got it. Little guy."

"Thank you," Catherine said quietly.

I forced a ten into Mike's hand and whispered, "Little gal has to pay too."

"I got it," he argued quietly. I gave him a hard stare and he backed down, gently taking the ten out of my hand. He spoke a little louder to Catherine. "You know, Catherine, if we do our job right and catch the bad guy, nobody's going to remember the rest."

She looked at him and stated, "I'll remember."


	3. Chapter 3

We all headed home after that to get some sleep. I finally got to meet Sara. We hit it off immediately. She got me set up in her spare bedroom and we both hit the sack. My alarm went off too soon and I got in the shower. Once we were both ready, we headed out to the lab. We pulled up about the same time as Mike did. He jogged up beside me and we walked in together. "Hey, you want to help me look for a case?"

"As in, case file?"

"Well, yeah."

"Sure. What's the case number?" He gave it to me as we went through the door into the filing room. We went to the nearest drawer and discovered that they weren't organized by case number. I sighed and asked, "You knew it was like this, didn't you?"

"Mmmaayyyybe." I punched him in the shoulder and he just laughed at me.

We were still going through them an hour later when a guy walked in. "Hey, Mike…and someone I don't know."

I spun to face him with a smile. "Hi. I'm Sierra."

"Oh! The Miami girl. I'm Warrick."

Mike came in as if nothing had been said. "Have you guys ever organized your files by case number?"

Warrick chuckled and answered, "In a perfect world. We hired this knucklehead named Honie. He had this dyslexic filing system."

"So, what do you think? Does the dyslexic atheist not believe in dog?"

"What?"

I stopped what I was doing and looked over at him. "What?"

He pulled out the file we were looking for and looked over at us. Warrick half-way chuckled and said, "I get it."

Mike looked at me expectantly, but I still didn't get it, so he said it again. "Does the _dyslexic atheist_ not believe in _dog_?"

"OH! I get it," I said slightly embarrassed. Mike grinned to himself and shrugged. "Hey, sometimes it takes me a minute."

"I didn't say anything."

"No, but you thought something."

"We're all entitled to our own thoughts."

I couldn't really come up with a comeback and I was a little too embarrassed to care, so I said, "Yeah. You're right." He nodded and motioned for me to follow him.

We went into the hall and he leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Catherine approved the plan."

"So, we're going with the reversal?"

"We are."

"And I'm in on it. Great."

"You were there when it was discussed. You had to be in on it, or you would've noticed something."

"Mike, these guys are going to notice something. They're good CSIs. And they're going to know if we're acting weird."

"This has to work. Just try to do this."

"I don't feel right betraying them like this when they took me in so openly and warmly."

"Sierra, please…"

His voice was so smooth and he was so close that I was afraid I might faint if he had to say anything more, so I said, "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"We need to set up a lab that the others don't use, and we need to cover the glass with opaque tarp. Find Catherine, ask her which lab would work best and get a hold on the tarp. Call me when you're prepared and I'll come help put the stuff up."

"Ok."

We parted ways discreetly and I went about doing what he said. Catherine met me with some tarp at a lab that wasn't very traversed and I called Mike. "Mike, we got it."

"Where?"

"I can see you down the hall. I'll wave." I did so. He caught sight of me and walked over. I slid my phone in my pocket and nodded at him. We got to work putting up the tarp. While we were working, Sara passed, saw us, and came back to eye us questioningly.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Uh…nothing I can talk about," Catherine answered as Mike and I silently kept working. "Keep me posted on the 419. Greg's going to meet you at the scene."

"…ok."

Catherine came through the door and quietly shut it. We got all the files out and started assessing them. "Zamesca was shot 3 times with a 9 millimeter. 2 sets of shoe impressions. 2 sets of tire impressions. A plastic jumbo cola cup. Drugs, found in Zamesca's car in plain view, but his tox was negative."

"The drugs were planted," I said.

"Crime scene was in a remote location."

"Well, that's in our favor," Mike added.

"The car was a bloody mess."

"Our victim was kind enough to donate a pint of his blood."

"We have a victim?" I asked.

"Yeah, Brass got us one."

"So, Brass is in on it too."

"He was at the table as well."

I shrugged and looked at the bag of blood he was holding. It read Ezekiel Holstein. "Did Mr. Holstein also donate his brain matter and bone fragments?"

"Brass got him off the street. Under cover cop. He opted to keep his brains intact," he answered with a smile. "The killer's a low level dealer looking for a new life, which we offered to him in exchange for this little favor."

Catherine said, "Without actually shooting the guy, this scene is going to be less than perfect, but with just us out there…"

"No! There has to be a fourth person processing the scene to make it look kosher. Someone who's not in on it."

"Well, if we use one of my guys," Catherine said, "they're going to figure it out."

Mike shrugged and responded, "Keep them away from the car," as he handed me the spray bottle filled with the blood of the "victim".

I looked up at him and said, "I'm not used to faking, Keppler."

He leaned a little closer and grinned. "When was the last time you had to?"

I scoffed in annoyance and pushed him away a bit, then went to the car we were using as the victim's and started applying the blood spatter. Mike followed me and Catherine went to get the analysis on the drugs found in Zamesca's car. "So, do you want this sprayed any certain way? Concentrated anywhere?"

"Nope. Just spray. I'm going to go get ballistics on this gun. You good?"

"Yeah. Be careful."

He turned and looked at me a little confused. "You too," he answered.

After he was gone, I silently berated myself. Be careful? Why was I telling him to be careful? I eventually made myself believe that I meant be careful that no one catches you…but deep down, I knew the truth. Be careful that the gun doesn't backfire, be careful that you don't trip, be careful and mind the glass doors so that you don't run into one. I was beginning to care for the guy…more than just a little bit.

Later, we took all our faked evidence out to the same general site as the original and arranged our stunt victim and killer. I was taking pics of our victim with his wounds in the car when he murmured, "This is my own blood, right? 'Cause it's dripping in my mouth."

"It's all yours," I answered as I finished up. "Ok. You can get out now, detective, but…"

"I know. Don't touch anything."

"You got it. Oh, there's some new clothes for you in the back of the vehicle." He nodded his thanks and walked off. Mike came over to shut the car door while I packed the camera up. "So, Mike, you said reverse forensics didn't work in Baltimore. Why not?"

"Smart cops," he said while he busted the window out with a metal wine bottle stopper.

I watched him and noticed how well he did it. "Did you steal cars before you became a CSI?"

"Stealing cars gets old fast. I like more of a challenge. That's why I started dating."

I got up to throw the bullet from the gun Mike had tested earlier in the car and muttered, "Note to self." I flicked the bullet through the window.

Mike turned to our "killer" and told him, "You can drop that cup now."

"I'm not done," he said.

The undercover cop came over and said, "He said drop it!"

"Um, about my new identity…I don't think I want to go to Denver. I'd rather go somewhere where I fit in…Like Maui."

"Yeah. And I want a threesome with Beyonce and Scarlett Johansen. Drop the cup and get your rat ass in the car."

"Fine. I'll drop the cup." He simply let go.

Mike focused a little harder on the cup and murmured, "Casual."

"Excuse me?" Catherine said.

"Simon. The soda. He wasn't expecting trouble." He cocked his head and started to analyze his train of thought. "I get out of my car and walk over to Zamesca. I didn't come here to kill him. I came here to talk. I hand him that photo, then something doesn't go as planned. I drop the drink, grab my gun……murder was plan B."

"Plan A was the photograph. Anti-drug crusader doing lines. That's a career buster."

"Looks like he underestimated Zamesca."

I came in with, "He was a hard man to kill."

Catherine nodded and said, "Simon panicked, which explains why he left evidence behind this time."

"And why he had to disappear, and why we had to do this."

Catherine nodded again and tossed the drug samples she had in through the window. Then she looked up and said, "Let's get this underway." About that time, Brass came driving up.

Mike said, "I'll call it in." He dialed 911 and told them, "Someone's been shot. I'm about a quarter mile west of Mt. Durango. There's a man bleeding from the head in his car. It looks like a gunshot wound, but I couldn't see a gun. He's dead for sure." Then he hung up. He took his sim card out of his phone so they couldn't track it. Brass walked up and his walkie talkie started reporting the possible 420 a quarter mile west of Mt. Durango. Mike looked at Brass and nodded. "Showtime."

Brass nodded back and called in, "Patrol, this is 203 Charlie Captain Brass. I am with Charlie 04 Willows, Charlie 09 Keppler, and Charlie 08 McGregor. We're right around the corner. Our ETA is 5 minutes. We will be responding also."

Catherine called the doctor whom I had not yet met. The rest of us circled around her as she talked. "Sorry, I've got a 420. Similar MO to Zamesca. The press is all over us. I need permission to get the body out of here ASAP……Got it. Which mortuary is on call? I'll take care of it. Thanks, Doc." She then called Warrick and brought him in. He showed up and immediately questioned about the whereabouts of the body. "I called the mortuary and had them get it out of here. Gunshot victim."

"Got ID?"

"Ezekiel Holstein," Mike answered. "Local. Brass is running him now."

"Hey, Cath, didn't you find Zamesca near here?"

"Yeah."

"The jumbo cup. Shoe and tire impressions. Shot in his car…think Simon's coming out of hiding?"

"Or it's a copycat," I sighed.

"Want me to take the back seat?"

"No," Catherine told him. "Take the perimeter."

"Ok."

"Thanks, Warrick."

The three of us exchanged glances and took nervous breaths. The under-Sherriff showed up and was telling the press that he had no conclusive information, but there were similarities to the Zamesca case.

He walked up to Brass, looked around, and said, "I feel real good about this."

Mike and I stared at him, looked at each other, and simultaneously rolled our eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

We went back to the lab to get the evidence in for the day shift to analyze, then went out respective ways. I was headed out the door to my car when Nick fell in step beside me. "Hi, Nick."

"Hey. So, what was the case for which Warrick got pulled off stolen motorcycles and I didn't about?"

"You haven't heard? It's either another Simon murder or a copycat. The crime scene was almost identical to the Zamesca case. We're waiting on the ballistics to find out." My phone buzzed and I checked the caller ID. It was Mike. "Here they are now. Hi, Mike."

"Are you alone?"

"Nope."

"Then the bullet that killed Holstein was from a 9 millimeter, but it wasn't the same gun as the Zamesca murder."

"Thanks. I'll talk to you later."

"Who are you with?"

"Yeah, Stokes was wondering too."

"I see. I'll call you later."

"Bye." I flipped the phone shut. "The bullet was from a 9 mil, but the gun doesn't match Simon's."

"So, it was a copycat," Nick said.

"Looks like it. So, I'll see you later."

"…yeah. See ya."

I sighed and went home.

That night, we came back and got back to work. Mike, Catherine, Warrick, and I sat in the conference room going over what day shift had found. Catherine said, "I got a partial print off the straw of the soda cup. AFIS hit Edwin Dennison aka Rat."

"Small time drug dealer with a big time rep sheet," Warrick said after looking at his file.

Mike suggested, "I'll have Brass bring him in, huh? Nice work everybody." He turned to leave, but he caught my eye and smiled. I smiled softly and glanced away. He really needed to stop smiling at me. It was starting to unnerve me when he did…in a good way…depending on your point of view.

As Mike left, Nick came in. "Hey, we just connected Sara's vic to Simon." Mike stopped and turned. "Yeah, you might want to hear this," Nick added, motioning him back.

"What's the connection?" I asked.

"Well, I think Simon was driving her BMW to meet Zamesca."

Catherine said, "Nick, we got a print from the Holstein case. Street dealer. We're bringing him in now. He looks dirty for Zamesca too." She got up and motioned for me to follow her. Mike left with us. She muttered, "I grew up in this town. I know something about playing the odds. You are gambling with my team."

"We talked about the risk going in. It's not like we can quit now," he answered, slightly annoyed.

"I'm not quitting! But I don't like it. And I hate lying to my guys."

I tried to lighten the mood and said, "We're almost out of this Catherine. Once Brass brings in street dealer boy and he confesses to Zamesca's murder, Simon will come out. We'll get him."

"I know, Sierra. I just hate the way I have to do it."

I pat her on the shoulder and went off down another hall to get my lunch. While I was eating, Brass brought in the guy and the under-Sherriff made a statement. "Good afternoon. The Las Vegas Police Department has successfully apprehended a suspect. One Edwin Dennison who had just confessed to multiple homicides including that of assemblyman Denilo Zamesca. Mr. Dennison admitted to luring Mr. Zamesca to a remote location while seeking his help to leave the drug trade. While Mr. Zamesca encouraged him to turn himself in to police, Mr. Dennison shot him. He later shot Mr. Holstein over a dispute in a drug deal. I'd like to say how very proud I am of the swift and efficient work of my department…" By then, I had stopped listening. It was time to bring down Simon.

I walked out and almost ran into Warrick who said, "Hey, Sierra, I've been looking for you. Will you come with me and look at these bullets again?"

"Um…sure."

We headed to someone else I hadn't met's lab and started reviewing the bullets. I tried to stay out of the way and let him do whatever in a non-suspicious way. After we had been there for about half and hour, Mike meandered by the doorway, noticed us in there, and stopped. "You know, that Dawson guy get's a little uptight when people touch his stuff," he said casually.

Warrick chuckled a little bit, but then got back to the point. "Well, the Holstein bullet was fired from the same gun that you found in Rat's car."

"So, it's a done deal," I said quickly…maybe too quickly. I was nervous. The team was starting to catch on to things.

"I'm not so sure. If this bullet went through a window and a guy's head, it would have pieces of glass and bits of bone in it. This hollow point is clean. There's no sand blast effect."

Mike walked farther into the room. "Hmm. Did we get a DNA sample yet? It might've been cleaned already."

"There's still blood on it."

"I see your point. Maybe autopsy will show something. Sierra, will you come with me, please?" I eagerly followed him out into the hall.

"Thank you," I sighed in relief.

"How'd you let yourself get caught up into that?"

"It wasn't my fault!" I said defensively. "He asked me to help him out. What else was I to do? Tell him no? That would've set off more suspicion."

"More?"

"Oh, don't tell me you can't tell that they're catching on. Mike, this is falling apart. We have to get Simon fast."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a quiet corner. "I'm working on it. We have to give Simon time to feel safe."

"I know. I'm just nervous. We're outsiders, and we convinced Catherine to do something against her better judgment and if it puts a rift between her and her team, I can never forgive myself."

"You didn't convince her to do anything. That was all me. I suggested it, I pressed the issue…it was me. You followed because you were forced. You didn't like it either. Don't carry the weight on this on your shoulders. It's mine to bear." I just stared at him. "What?"

"That sounded like it was from a book. A fairy tale or something. Prince charming takes all the blame and reassures the damsel in distress……and did I really just say that?"

He smiled a closed mouth smile and told me, "I think you did."

"Sorry."

"You're apologizing again."

"Well, you just do that to me. I never know what the hell I'm saying around you. You need to stop being like that."

" Like what exactly?"

"I don't know! Just stop." The hall was deserted and we had taken to whispering even more quietly. "I can't handle your charming smiles and random little jokes that I don't get right away. I don't cope with stress very well, no matter what Eric Delko says. Not knowing what to do around you is stressing me, and this whole reverse forensics thing is killing me, and…" I suddenly found myself cut off. And rather like the dyslexic atheist joke, it took me a minute to figure it out. And when I did, I tried to gasp, but realized that I had no air to inhale because Mike's mouth was blocking it off. Impulse took over and I immediately kissed him back. Then I realized where I was and what I was doing. I kissed him a second longer before pushing him back. "Stop! Not here!"

He closed his eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"Now you're apologizing?" I asked jokingly. He picked up on the lightheartedness in my tone and opened his eyes.

"So…I didn't…offend…"

"No!" I cried a little too loudly. "No," I amended in a whisper. "Just…not here. We, um, work here."

He nodded. "That we do." We had another awkward silence moment like the one we had at the airport. "So…tomorrow's our day off."

"Mhm."

"Can I take you out to dinner? Well, I mean, at dinner time for the rest of the populace."

"Sure. I'd like that," I answered with a small smile up at him.

"Ok. Ok. Let's go get Simon."

"Right." We both started off in different directions, stopped and tried to go the other way with the other person, then finally decided to go our own way. I had nothing to do until we moved in on Simon, so I found myself thinking about Mike. I hadn't intended to get anywhere near close enough to anyone for this to happen, and I still wasn't sure I wanted it to happen. I couldn't stay in Vegas. I'd have to go back to Miami, and long distance relationships rarely worked. But maybe, just maybe, something would work out.

About an hour later, Mike called me. "Sierra, Brass and his boys are going for Simon."

"Good. I'm so ready to get this over with."

"We all are. Meet me at interrogations?"

"I'll be there." I hung up and headed towards the interrogations side of the building. I found the room they had Simon in because Mike was leaning against the wall outside with the under-Sherriff. Well, I thought it was Simon's interrogation. It turned out to be a council including the DA, Catherine, and Brass discussing the case…and the methods used to solve it. The DA stalked out and gave the under-Sherriff a death glare before walking away. Brass and Catherine filed out too.

"Alright," the under-Sherriff said, "which one of you screwed this up?"

Brass stared at him and said, "I'm looking at him. You dropped the ball, man. You never cleared this with the DA and now she says she can't tell fact from fiction and she's not going to file charges against Simon."

"She's a tight ass. I told her what I thought she needed to know."

"Did you hear what I said? Now what you gonna tell her, Sherriff?" The under-Sherriff, extremely pissed off, walked away.

Catherine sighed and said, "We gotta clear this up at the lab."

"Yeah," I responded. "This isn't going to be pretty."

So, we called a meeting of the team to explain everything. Mike started. "It's called reverse forensics."

A guy I had yet to properly meet, but I learned was named Greg said, "Reverse forensics?"

Catherine added, "Simon had to believe what he saw on the news."

"The guy was a fugitive. The only way to get him to show his face was to make him think he was off the hook," I said.

Warrick looked us over and asked, "And your only option was to fabricate evidence and make me process it?"

Greg came back in with, "How could you think we wouldn't figure it out? I mean, that's kind of what we do."

"I understand how you all feel," Catherine said. "I am sorry. I did not have a choice."

"We trust you with out lives, Catherine!" Nick said heatedly. "You could've trusted us with this."

I was keeping my eyes averted from everyone else's because I was afraid of the judgment I would see. Catherine finally looked at Sara and asked her opinion. "Sara?"

"If I have something to say to you, Catherine, I'm going to say it in private." She glanced at Mike and me and added, "No offence."

Catherine decided to go back to work. "We can still get Simon. He only walked on Zamesca. He drove Monique Carter's vehicle out into the desert. Nick has established that." I just sort of dropped out mentally for a minute. I hadn't kept up with Sara's 419, so I had no idea what they were talking about. "Did he kill her too?"

She sent Nick and Sara back out to the girl's apartment to look into it. They found the evidence needed and Simon was arrested and charged.

That evening/my morning, I was up and getting myself into a dress. I was very lucky I even packed one. I had just thought that there might be some official event or something I would have to attend. Not exactly official…

I was just grabbing my purse when Sara knocked on the door. "Come in."

She opened the door and smiled softly at me. "Mike's here."

"Thanks." She turned to leave and I called, "Sara, wait!" She stopped. "I'm really very sorry about what happened in the lab."

"Yeah, I know. And I don't blame you. You're not the one in charge."

I nodded and she nodded and then we laughed. "Thanks, Sara."

"Sure thing. Now, get out of here. Your date is waiting."

I did what she said eagerly. Mike was waiting at the door. He looked up and smiled when he heard me coming. Oh, that smile. "Hi," I said somewhat breathlessly.

"Hi." He was in a suit…I was beginning to think he owned nothing else…and he looked damn good in it. He offered me his arm, and I took it. We went out and got in his car, and then headed towards whatever restaurant he had staked out. We attempted at conversation during the ride. "You look really nice."

"Thanks," I chuckled. "You look…normal. But it's nice!"

He snickered and responded, "You all just can't get over me working in a suit, can you?"

I took a deep breath as if I was going to go into a long explanation, then bluntly stated, "No." He laughed, and it was the first time I had ever heard him fully laugh. It was an amazing sound.

We got to the restaurant and we were escorted to our table. As much as we tried, we couldn't keep work out of the conversation. "So, I dig up a ghost. I know he has a son who was killed by drug dealers, she's being killed by drugs, he's got a savior complex, so I use her to lure him out into the desert. That's why I drive her car. So he'll recognize it…feel safe."

I leaned against my hand with my elbow propped on the table and looked at him, intrigued. "You are aware that you talk about the killer in the first person…right?"

He leaned forward on the table a little with a small smile. "Well, that's the point, isn't it? It clouds my judgment to identify with the victims. Our job is to catch killers." He took a deep breath. "I guess it helps me to think like one."

I shook my head. "I'm not used to guys like you. You have insight into the things no one else wants to think about, and it helps. You're not afraid to do what the others won't. I think that's very cool."

"Well, thank you. I think you're pretty cool too."

I chuckled. "I'm sorry. I talk like a teenager sometimes."

"There you go apologizing again!"

"I'm sorry!"

"No! Shh! If you can't say something without apologizing for it, don't say anything at all." I fell silent, but I gave him my best puppy dog face I could. Gradually, I could see him breaking. Finally, he gave me a deplorable look and said, "Oh, fine. Say something! Just don't look at me like that. I feel like I just kicked a puppy."

I grinned and said, "That was the desired effect. It usually doesn't work."

"Yeah? Well, it did this time."

I reached across the table and touched his hand. "Tough guys with a soft spot are more likely to get a girl when they show that soft spot. Don't feel bad."

He turned his hand palm up so he could hold mine. He looked over at me with those blue eyes and quietly said, "I don't."

He took me home after dinner. It was about 9pm when we pulled back up to Sara's place. He walked me to the door and said, "Thank you for coming tonight."

"Thank you for asking me to. I had fun."

"Yeah, me too. You want to do it again sometime?"

"Of course! Name the date, I'll be there."

"Ok. Ok," he said with a grin.

I nodded and said, "Sooo…" He bit his lip for a second then swooped down and kissed me. His lips were warm and tasted faintly of the wine he had with supper. It was a seductive mix. Very tentatively, one of his hands held my face closer to his. I kissed him until I thought I would burst, then broke away. I took a few slow breaths to calm my heart rate, then looked back at him. "Goodnight, Mike."

He smiled and kissed me very very lightly one more time and said, "Goodnight, Sierra," against my lips…and then he was gone. I watched him walk back to his car, and waved as he drove away. Then I let myself in the door.


	5. Chapter 5

About a week went by before we got a case worth working on. Nick, Mike, and I got sent out to the scene. A place had been torched, and a body was found inside. Mike and I arrived a few minutes after Nick, which allowed for him to get an ID on the victim. "The vic is Ross Netty," he told us as we ducked under the police tape. "He spent a couple of years in Jean for domestic assault. Just got parole. Shop foreman said he's only been working here a few days."

Mike shone the beam of his flashlight on the corpse. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire."

"He is a crispy critter. I'd say the point of origin was him."

"He should've stayed in prison," I muttered.

Nick grinned and responded, "Mhm."

Mike looked around and shook his head. "I'm not surprised. This whole place is a fire hazard."

One of the MEs, Dave, came over and asked if he could move the body out. Nick gave him the ok as Mike and I wandered around, assessing the scene. I took out this little gadget that analyzed some of the chemicals in the air and on the ground. "Hey, looks like there was a lot of gasoline over here!" I called. "That explains this V pattern," I said as Mike walked over. "Accelerant. Second point of origin. Likely arson."

Nick came over and snapped a few pictures. "Ex-con, enemies on the outside, 2 points of origin, and 1 dead guy. What are you thinkin'?" he asked Mike.

"I'm thinking we head back to the body," he answered while walking away.

Nick followed and called, "Hey, you know what Grissom would say here, don't you?"

Dave walked by, carrying one end of the stretcher and answered, "Something ironic, I'm sure." Nick grinned goofily and nodded. I laughed to myself and walked past him to catch up to Mike. He was my ride back.

Once back at the lab, Mike and I went down to the morgue to help Doc Robbins and Dave with the autopsy. Mike cut off the vic's shirt and discovered a long line of large staples running down his spine. "Looks like someone took a staple gun to him," he said. Once all the clothing was removed, we found multiple other lines, going down the legs and the torso. Doc Robbins put the body through the x-ray machine. What we saw came as quite a surprise.

Doc pointed at the screen and said, "Those aren't bones."

That was pretty obvious, but what they were definately wasn't. We got the corpse out and back onto the autopsy table. Robbins started to remove the staples. Once he had, he pulled the skin apart where the staples had been holding the pieces together. In place of the spine was a broom handle. He looked up at us. We just stared back at him, as bewildered as he was. I was standing on the same side as Robbins was, so I worked on that leg, and Mike worked on the opposite. Inside mine was a pvc pipe. Mike pulled out what was in his, and the next thing I knew, I was spattered with blood and gore. It was an umbrella and it had opened when he pulled it out. He slowly moved it, so he could look around at me. He winced when he saw all the stuff on me, then looked at the umbrella and said, "That's bad luck, isn't it?"

I smiled at him and said, "I'm going to clean off my face a little, and call Nick. He'll want to see this."

"Ok."

I walked to the sink and cleaned the spatter off my face and goggles. Then, I went outside to call Nick. He arrived within minutes of my call. Once back to the body, Doc Robbins said, "Pvc pipe is sometimes used to replace bones that have been donated for transport."

"So they can show the body in an open casket?" Mike inquired.

Robbins nodded. I was examining the replacement bones, so I asked, "Do they use umbrellas and broom sticks for that too, Doc?"

"Not that I've seen," Robbins chuckled.

"Well, wait a minute," Mike said, "The killer torched the guy, so no open casket. Why stuff the body?"

Nick was looking around at the remainder of the insides of the body. "Looks like the long bones are gone," he said. "The spine, tendons, cartilage, and most major veins."

"They took the heart valves too," Robbins said.

Mike started running through what we knew. "Ok, so, somebody murders an ex-con, and commits arson to make it look like an accident just so they can harvest his bones and tissue?"

"It's a big business. Disc replacement, joint replacement, bypasses. It's in more demand than supply."

"Why leave the kidneys, the heart, and the liver?" I asked. "They're worth big money too."

"Organ donations are heavily regulated. Bone and tissue, not so much."

"COD?"

"At this point, undetermined. All I'll say right now is: based on the level of decomp, he's been dead at least a week."

We finished up in there and went back to our floor. Mike offered to call Sophia and have her interview the foreman. He disappeared to do that, so Nick and I were left to run the prints Mike got off our vic's finger. I leaned on the table by the computer while Nick put the print in the scanner. The computer started running, and it didn't take long to find a match. It came up as Roger Lapinsky. I cocked my head, then searched him in SpyderFinder. His obituary came up. "Nick..."

He walked over. "So the crispy critter isn't Ross Netty."

"It appears that way."

"Let me get this straight...the ex-con digs up a corpse, harvests a few body parts to sell, then fills it back up with pvc and umbrellas, then torches the body where he works to make it look like he's the victim?"

We headed out into the halls to go find Mike. "Cops don't come looking for you if you're already dead."

"Well, if Lapinsky was already dead, how come we didn't find traces of embalming fluid in him?"

"He's Jewish."

"So what?"

"Observing Jews don't believe in embalming or donating organs. It's part of their faith. They think the body should go out the way it came in. Learned that from Mike, by the way."

"Keppler's Jewish?"

I shrugged, "Apparently."

"So, this isn't just about the desecration of the body, but the family as well."

"Yup."

"I'll get a court order for the exhumation. You'll find Keppler and fill him in?"

"Mhm."

"Cool beans." He walked off down another hall.

I went to Mike's office. He was sitting in his chair looking at mail. He was holding what looked like a card from a funeral or something. A quick glance told me it was from a memorial for that girl he had told me about. Amy. I knocked quietly. He glanced up and motioned me in. "Hey," he said.

"Hi." He seemed a little more demure than before, so I asked, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. What you got?"

"Our corpse isn't Ross Netty. Some guy named Roger Lapinsky."

"Netty made it look like it was him to hide from the cops."

"Exactly my thoughts as well."

"And, let me guess, Lapinsky was Jewish, and that's why we didn't find any embalming fluids."

"You're psychic."

"Nope. Just smart."

"Nick's gone to get a court order for the exhumation."

"Good work."

I nodded. "So, is that Amy?" He nodded and handed me the card. It was a nice picture. "She was very pretty."

"Yeah...she was."

I handed it back. "Why didn't you go to the memorial?"

"I...I wasn't sure I should. You know, I'm trying to get past it and all. I thought it might trigger some of those old feelings again."

"It didn't have anything to do with me, did it?"

"No!" He got up and walked over to me. He took my hand and reiterated, "No."

"So, you are ok?"

"I'm fine, Sierra."

"Alright. I just want to be sure. If you want to talk, I'll listen."

"I know."

About ten minutes later, Nick came in with the court order. We went out and dug up the plain coffin of our Roger Lapinsky and took it back to the lab. Clearly marked on the top was a Star of David. Nick informed us, "The coffin had only been in the ground for about a week. The dirt and sod were pretty loose, so it was probably pretty easy to take out and put back in."

Mike was looking at the coffin with slight distaste as he put on his gloves. "You guys sure do a lot of exhumations here."

"As many as we have to," Nick countered.

I rolled my eyes and ordered, "Somebody help me with this lid." Nick, almost suspiciously quickly, moved to help.

"Nobody home," Mike stated once we got the lid off.

"No surprise." I grabbed the camera and started taking pictures while he and Nick examined the inside.

"Hey. Lapinsky may have been burned in this shirt, but I don't think he was buried in it." He pulled out a small piece of a plaid shirt from a crevice in the side of the coffin.

"Dead men don't wear plaid," Nick said. He leaned closer and asked, "Is this blood?" Mike and I leaned in too. I suddenly imagined what exactly we all looked like with our heads stuck in this coffin. I restrained from laughing and snapped a photo.

"Dead men don't bleed," Mike added.

"How much do you guys want to bet that if we run the DNA, we'll find Ross Netty?"

"Yup," they both said practically simultaneously.

"I'll take it up." I swabbed the blood drops and took it up to Wendy.

It took about half an hour to get a result. "Hey, Sierra, it's not Netty."

"Seriously?" She nodded. I dialed Mike. "Hey, meet me at Wendy's station." He showed up a few minutes later. "So, we ran the blood through CODIS and it's not Ross Netty."

"He had a partner."

"DNA matched a Heidi Sultz who did time for domestic assault and is currently out on parole."

"Funny. Netty did time for assault too. Maybe they're sparring partners."

I snorted and said, "I'll drive. You got an address, Wendy?" She gave it to me, and Mike and I headed out to my Ford Escape. We brought along a few outfitted officers as well. The address was out in the hood of the suburbs. Either nobody had dryers or nobody could afford the extra electricity because there were clothes-lines everywhere. "I talked to Heidi's PO," I said. "According to him, Heidi has been trying to straighten out. She's detoxed, got a job, and dumped Ross Netty."

"She might be taking on an ex."

We got up to the door and one of the policemen knocked. "Las Vegas PD!" he called.

She answered. "Heidi Sultz?" I asked.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"You're under arrest."

"Why?"

"Where's Ross?"

"I haven't seen that dog in weeks."

"Is anyone else living here with you?" the officer asked.

"Yeah, my baby, and my new boyfriend Charlie."

"Where are they?" Mike asked.

"Out back, hanging out."

"Put her in the car," I said as I headed around back. I kept a hand on my gun, but I didn't need it. Ross Netty was asleep in a chair. "Ross," I called as I lightly kicked him in the leg. "Wake up, sugar."

"Hey, baby," he mumbled before opening his eyes. Once he had, he amended, "My name's Charlie. Charlie Kiefer."

"Get on the wall." One of the officers pulled him up to pat him down.

"I got ID. It's in my jeans!"

The guy pulled it out and tossed it to Mike. He looked it over and asked, "Where'd you get this? The dollar store? Have a seat Ross." The officer shoved him back in the chair. "This is your third strike, pal. Right now, you're looking at a minimum of 25 years. If you talk to us, we can make sure it doesn't get any worse. What do you say?"

"That's 10 more for falsifying an ID, 15 for grave robbing...arson, that's another 10," I added.

"Desecrating a corpse, 10, another 20 for trafficking body parts..."

"Body parts?" Ross cried. "No way! I thought those cuts were from, like, an autopsy."

"So, you admit to digging up Roger Lapinsky?" I clarified.

"I've been out two months and the best job I can get is welding engine parts together for 5 bucks an hour. They wouldn't even let me flip burgers. Heidi just had the baby...it's not like it was going to hurt anyone. We dug up some guy that kind of looked like me, put my ID on him, then we torched it. All I was looking for was a fresh start. Best way to make it happen was to kill myself."

Mike sighed and told him, "You should've stuck with the five bucks an hour."


	6. Chapter 6

We took those two low lifes in and got the kid covered. There was a slight lull in the case, so I went and found Sara to see what she was working on. Some wealthy, married woman was found dead in her home. They had tracked her to a club where she had been seeing some kind of male escort. "So, they don't sell sex?"

"No! They sell 'a relationship'."

"That's...weird."

"I know!" We were headed down the hall where Grissom's office was when we saw that Mike was in there. Sara pulled off into there, so I followed. "Hi. What are you doing?"

Mike had been intently observing one of the many models in the office. He straightened up when we walked in. "Just looking," he said.

"What do you think?"

"Meticulous, obsessive. Really knows his way around a modeling kit."

"Grissom...didn't make those."

"No? Hm. Fits the profile. Bugs in bottles, Darwin desk set."

"He's a bit of a collector of certain things."

"I knew a guy in Philly like that. Kept a case of thumbs in his closet."

"Friend of yours?"

"No. Serial killer."

Sara nodded thoughtfully. "Do you miss it?"

"What?"

"Philly."

Mike's expression changed in that moment. I didn't think Sara saw it, but I did. His amiable-ish look changed to a darker, more negative one. "No," he answered before leaving.

Sara watched him go, then cast a look around the room. I looked at Grissom's desk and scoffed. "The guy sure seems popular. That's a lot of mail!"

"Yeah," she said as she wandered around.

"I'm going to go scarf down some late lunch."

"Ok. See ya." I left her there, peering at a cucoon. There was something between her and Grissom, or else I wasn't a CSI level 2.

I was in the staff room, downing a sandwich, when Nick came in. "Hey, beach girl."

"Hey...casino boy," I muttered around the bite I had in my mouth.

He smiled and continued, "Greg found something that might be related to our case. He was doing some follow-up on tissue procurement companies in the area. Turns out there's only two in the state. One of them, Longevity Tissue Services, has the same logo that you found on the umbrella in Lapinsky's leg."

"Great!" I took a swig out of my water bottle and jumped up. "Let's check it out." I texted Mike to let him know about the find, then followed Nick out to his vehicle.

We arrived and immediately asked to see the owner. He came in and shook hands. "What can Longevity do for the LV police?"

I told him, "We need to know if your company recieved tissue or bone from a Roger Lapinsky."

"What's the problem?"

"There might not be one," I answered with a small smile.

"Alright. Well, I'd be happy to check." He sat down at a computer and typed in some things. Nick came up beside me and gave me one of those, 'are you suspicious yet, 'cuz I am' looks. I just smiled and looked away. I refocused when the computer beeped. "Yep! There he is," the owner said. "Roger Lapinsky, 37 years old, died of cardiac arrest. That's tragic," he muttered as he turned back to us.

Nick said, "We're going to need copies of his records and we're going to need to confiscate his parts."

"And if you don't tell me what's going on, you're going to need a warrant."

"This is a criminal investigation. Those parts are evidence now." The owner stared at us for a bit, then finally relented. He led us to a big storage room full of fridges full of body parts. While pulling out one of Lapinsky's bones, Nick said, "I was always under the impression that body parts were to be removed at the hospital."

"Major organs have to be removed at the hospital and transplanted into the new patients within 46 hours, but bone and tissue can be removed at any point and stored for up to 5 years."

"Who gives you access to those parts?" I asked.

"There is always signed consent from next of kin, and most funeral homes have a tissue recovery coordinator. They choose who the parts go to. Better the reputation, better the chance to get the parts. I help the dead help the living."

"According to your records, Roger Lapinsky's body parts came from Silver Hills mortuary."

"If that's what it says," he responded assuredly.

Nick and I gathered up the rest of the parts, then left. While in the car, I called Mike. "Hey, will you go check out Silver Hills Mortuary?...Yes, I know it's late!... That's the consequence of working night shift." I gave him all the needed info, then hung up.

Nick looked over and asked, "So, how are you and Keppler these days?"

"Fine. We're still in the early stages. Getting to know each other a little better with every conversation. You know."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Just wondering."

He sounded a little too innocent, but I let it go. After we dropped the parts off for day shift to analyze in our absence, we headed home. I was just about to climb into bed when Mike called. "Hello."

"Hey. We got a problem. Well, a corrupt body parts supplier anyway."

"What happened?"

"The records that his guy has at Silver Hills says Lapinsky died of cardiac arrest. Doc Robbins just called and informed me that Lapinsky died of leukemia."

"Oh god," I sighed. "I guess we'll work on that when we get back in. How long until you can go home?"

"I just have to hang around until some people come to relieve me. You in bed?"

"About to be."

"Oh, sorry."

"That's fine. I'll see you around 6?"

"Of course. Goodnight, Sierra."

"Night, Mike."

I fell asleep quickly. I managed to stay in a relatively deep sleep and when my alarm went off, I was ready to roll. I got ready and drove over to Mike's to make sure he was up. It was about 6pm. He was just walking out the front door of his apartment building. I parked and got out. He smiled one of those shy looking, closed-mouth smiles and met me by his car. "Sleep well?" he asked.

"Very. You?"

"Well enough once I finally got in bed."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you work overtime."

"That's ok." He tossed his stuff in the passenger seat, then walked back around to the driver's side. Now that his arms were free, he wrapped them around me and kissed me. "I forgive you," he said between kisses.

I laughed and pulled away. "Thanks. We need to go." I started back towards my car, but when I didn't hear him get in his, I turned and looked back. He was giving me this look that was somewhere between a puppy dog whine and his normal self. It got to me. I sighed and relented, "Ok, maybe one more." I ran over and basically jumped into his arms. After that, we got in our vehicles and drove to work. Nick texted both of us and asked us to meet him in the lab where we had hung all of our evidence in, so we could regroup. We did just that.

Mike said, "I got a copy of Lapinsky's death certificate from Carson City. This is the one we got from the mortician. See, they don't match up. He changed the cause of death."

Nick nodded and added, "It turns out that the owner of Longevity, Ty Malony, is a bit of a hustler as well. Those umbrellas were a promotional gift from a telemarketing company he ran a few years back."

"The guy's not even a doctor," I muttered.

"He did drop out of chiropractic school," Nick offered.

"Are you saying that any avergage Joe with a sign can open a tissue bank?"

"If you're FDA registered, yeah."

"How do you get FDA registered?"

"You just fill out a form."

I scoffed and looked to Mike. "Now you know why I don't like doctors!"

He smiled, and Nick continued, "In the last 3 years, 37 bone and tissue donations came from Silver Hill's mortuary to this Longevity clinic. 23 of those cases was cardiac arrest. And most of those people were in their 30s and 40s."

"That's a lot of young heart attacks," Mike mentioned. "We're going to have to look through all these CODs and match them up with the official death certificates."

"And do more exhumations."

Mike laughed and laid his head on his arm in defeat for a second. I smiled, but I said, "The only thing I'm wondering, is the mortician hustling the tissue bank guy or are they working together?"

Mike looked up from his arm and said, "I'll go through his stuff again."

"Call me when you get something."

"Will do."

Nick said, "I'll bring in Malony."

"Alright."

About an hour later, Mike called. "I'm bringing the guy in for questioning. You want to observe?"

"Sure."

"Room 3."

"Roger." I hung up and went to the observation room of interrogation room 3.

Mike led in the mortician and tossed a pictured down in front of him. "Dr. Stuart, Dr. Kline, Dr. Colmes, and Dr. Jones."

"That's not my handwriting," he argued.

"Well, that's the point of forgery, isn't it, Mr. Hines? Man dies of leukemia and his body comes into your mortuary, and you decide to sell his spare parts for a few extra bucks. Only problem is no one wants to buy diseased body parts, so you make a new death certificate, change the cause of death, sign off with a legit doctor's signature and cash your checks from Ty Malony."

Nick texted me and told me Malony was in room 4 and needed me to cover the interrogation because he was looking into something. I sighed and told him I would. I went in and sat down, then told Malony what we had discovered about this Hines guy. "I'm so disappointed with Mr. Hines. He always seemed so honest!"

"Have you ever followed up on any other patients that recieved parts from Silver Hills mortuary?"

"That's the hospital's job. As far as I know, none of the recipients have ever complained."

Nick walked in and said, "Maybe that's because they're not around anymore." He tossed a file on the table. "We followed up on several patients who recieved Silver Hills bone and tissue from your clinic, and now seven of them are dead. 3 from hepatitis, 3 from cancer, and one age related. The same thing that, ironically, killed the donors. One of the victims was a healthy, 15 year old, high school soccer player. You gave him a contaminated knee cap."

"Oh my god." He looked at us and noted our expressions. "You got nothing on me," he said defensively. "I don't care what that little body snatcher tells you."

"The families are going to sue you and your company to bankruptcy," I told him.

"They can try. That is what signed release forms are for."

Nick said, "You're reopening a nasty, old wound for them, now."

"Nope. I didn't do anything."

I cried, "Because of you, they are going to have to rebury their mother, their father, their son, their daughter!"

"Ty, let me tell you something," Nick started. "I'm going to come down to that clinic, and I'm going to go through it piece by piece by piece. And if something doesn't jive, I can assure you, sir, I will find it."

"Well, that is your job, isn't it?" Malony sneered.

"Yes, it is."

"And you'll have my full cooperation."

A buzz from the observation room interrupted us. I had a pretty good idea of who it was, so I said, "I'll take it." On my way out, I suddenly realized something. As childish as it was, the guys were fighting for my attention. "Stupid maleness," I mumbled to myself. Mike met me in the hallway. "What's up?"

"Hines is claiming that Malony told him to do it and what to do. We still got him for taking money and people dying because of it. You two get anything out of Malony?"

"Not really. Nick threatened to go through everything at the clinic and Malony offered full cooperation. Sure, he did it with a little bit of attitude, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"I'm willing to bet you won't be able to get anything."

"Me? I ain't going down there. Nick ran his big Texas mouth, and all he said was that _he_ was going down there. I'll happily let him have that job."

Mike was looking behind me, and just that moment, the door shut. I hadn't even heard it open. Nick was standing behind me with a small grin-like thing on his face. "As it happens," he told me, "I wasn't going to ask you to do it, or even help." Embarassed, I just kind of ducked my head and started off. He and Mike both chuckled amongst themselves. I rolled my eyes, smiled, and kept walking.


	7. Chapter 7

I decided to take the long way to Mike's office in the hope that he would go the short way. Luckily, I was right. I walked in and sat on the only other chair in the room besides his own. "Mike?"

"What?"

"Is it just me, or were you two getting competetive?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you both seemed to be half unconsciously trying to out-do the other in the hopes of...well, I don't know...impressing me."

"It must just be you. As far as I'm concerned, I don't need to impress you."

"Oh. So you think you have absolutely no competition?"

"Exactly."

I smiled. "Well, you're right. I think."

"You think?"

"I'm never sure. But, so far...no one has charmed me quite as much as you."

"I didn't think so."

"You're being a bit cocky," I laughed.

"I always get a bit of an ego when we close a case."

"Well, we haven't closed it yet. We have to wait and see if Nick finds anything."

"True. You want to go get something to eat, or did you eat before you left the house?"

"Of course I didn't. I'd love to. Well, on second thought, let's just order a pizza."

"We can do that?"

"Yeah! Hodges orders Chinese all the time."

So, that's what we did. Then, we sat in his office and talked. We really couldn't do anything until Nick was done. "Mike, tell me about Amy."

"What about Amy?"

"What was she like? What did you like about her? You know...tell me about her."

He took a drink, then cleared his throat. "Well, she was a very calm person. Quiet, sweet...everyone liked her. When you were in the same room as her, it was like you were in the presence of an angel. I know that sound cliche, but there isn't a better way to describe it. She just lit up a room."

"That doesn't sound at all like me. How is it you were attracted to me, then?"

"I'll admit, you're no angel, but you do light up a room. You're brilliant...well, maybe street smart and intelligent is a better description. I think there are some deeper qualities that you and Amy share. You're both very strong. You make people believe you can withstand anything..."

"But?"

"But then something comes along, and it knocks you off your high horse."

"Ah."

"I guess I just feel that I have to be there...to catch you when you fall."

"That was really sweet."

"I try."

"So, when are we going out again?"

"When do you want to?"

"Friday night? Since we're off."

"Ok. Any request as per where?"

"Nope. You choose. I eat just about anything."

"Your figure doesn't betray that quality."

"Ah, but you see, it's not always what you eat. It is more often how much you eat."

"Valid point."

"Yes, I know."

He chuckled. "There's just something about you, Sierra McGregor."

"Well, thanks. There's something about you too, Mike Keppler."

"No, I'm serious!"

"So am I. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be dating you."

"Hmm."

"Hey, if you grew your hair out, would it be a white-boy afro?"

He paused, mid-bite. He finally took a bite and swallowed it. "Um...no. I don't think so. What in the hell would inspire that question?"

"The lack of anything else intelligent to say."

He laughed. "Oh." His pretty, blue eyes stared deep into mine as if scanning my brain for something.

"What?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing. I just get facinated by the way the irises of your eyes have, like, facets of color. It's intriguing."

"Oh. Well, no one has put it quite that way before."

"But, I take it I'm not the first one to comment on your eyes."

"Eh...no."

"So, I told you about my past partner. Your turn."

"I don't have only one."

"So tell me about your favorite."

"Ok. Honestly, the guy who is now my best friend is my favorite ex."

"Wow. No wonder. If you get along this well after the break up, I'm sure the relationship was good."

"It was. We were basically best friends then too. We probably could've done without dating for a year...well, maybe not. The dating got the sexual tension out of the way. I think that's what allowed us to be such good friends. We got that out of our systems."

"Makes sense."

"Anyway, his name is Eric Delko. He is of Latino descent...I want to say Cuban, but I'm kind of having a blank right now, so I wouldn't swear to it. He was...is...really fun. He's smart, and funny, and charming. He's just so fun to be around. There's no other way to say it. Some of the deepest brown eyes I've ever encountered. Nick's are fighting for that spot though."

"Nick's?"

"Yeah. They're really pretty." He just sort of cocked his head. "Oh, come on. You're not jealous are you?"

"No...I'm just wondering why you think they're pretty."

"Well...because the shade of brown they are is really pretty, and it's kind of cool how the color looks a little less solid when light hits them right."

He shrugged. "Oh. Ok."

"You're sure you aren't jealous?"

"Yes, Sierra!"

"Ok! Geez." I grumpily scooted a little lower in my chair.

Mike sighed, but he didn't say anything. It wasn't long before we opened up again. About 3 hours later, Nick called and said he couldn't find any discrepancies at Longevity. I sighed, disappointed. "Alright, Nick. Come on home, then."

"I'm on my way. Be there in about 15."

"Drive safe."

"Will do."

He hung up. "He couldn't find anything?" Mike asked with an air of 'I told you so'.

"Nope. You were right."

"Can I be cocky now? The case is more or less closed, right?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

He smiled and walked out to do who knew what. I sat there a little longer, then sought out Sara to see how her case had gone. It was the male escort that killed her, but it turned out that she was only talking to him because he was her long lost son. He had thought she was just playing a cruel joke when she told him, and whacked her face in with a champagne bottle. "The world we live in is crazy," Sara told me once she had finished the story. By then, it was about time to clock out.

"Hey, have you seen Nick? I never saw him get back."

"Yeah, he was downstairs clearing out the exhumed coffins and stuff when I last saw him."

"Thanks."

"Sure. See you at home?"

"Maybe. I might hang out a little bit."

"Ok."

I met Mike by his car and kissed him goodbye/goodnight, then went back in and took the elevator to the floor Nick would be on. I put on a medical apron and goggles, then walked down the coffin lined hall. He nearly ran into me on his way out of a door with an armful of pvc pipes in evidence bags. "Hey!" he said, slightly shocked to see me. "Aren't you off shift?"

I smiled. "Yeah. Aren't you?"

"Yeah," he answered with an almost shy smile.

"Do you need some help?"

"Sure...thanks! I'll be right back."

He walked past me to deposit his load somewhere, and I went into the room. It was full of dusty coffins. "This is morbid looking," I muttered to no one. There was still a body on an autopsy table that had yet to be put back in her coffin. She looked nothing like Amy...but I saw Amy anyway. My face blanched and I felt suddenly parched. I shook my head violently to clear the thought. Thankfully, I managed it before Nick came back.

He came in and asked teasingly, "Could you think of nothing better to do except come down here and help me with the dead people?"

"Well...I just wanted to make up for my unwillingness to help earlier," I answered while gathering up some of the bags.

"You didn't need to. I wasn't offended."

"I know. I just thought you deserved some help. You worked really hard on this case."

"You did too. We all did. I think we made a pretty good team."

"I think we did too."

"Some promising partnerships?"

"Unfortunately, a few more weeks and they'll be broken. I have to go back to Miami."

"Oh, yeah. How's that going to work with you and Mike?"

"I...haven't figured that out yet." My phone rang, so I got it out and checked caller ID. "Huh, speaking of the devil. Hello?"

"Hey, I know this sounds terrible, but I'm lonely. I was wondering if you'd come over."

"Um...I'm helping Nick with some of the clean-up on the 2nd floor. I can come by after that. I'll try not to be too late."

"Ok. Bye."

"Bye." I flipped my phone shut and put it away. Nick just kind of looked at me from across the room. "What?"

"Nothin'," he said as he turned and got back to work.

"Yeah, right," I muttered. Even though he was facing away from me, I just knew he smiled.

After helping Nick, I drove over to Sara's and grabbed up some more comfortable clothes...and clothes for the next day. Once I'd grabbed everything, I drove to Mike's. I knocked on the door and quietly waited for him to answer. When he did, I was amazed with the weird feeling of relief I had. It was as if not being able to see him meant he was in constant danger or something. "Hi," I said.

"Hi." He moved so I could get in the door. Once I had, he shut it. "Do you get overtime pay for helping Nick?"

"I don't know. I just thought he deserved some help."

"That's not what you thought a few hours ago!"

"Well, I know, but still. What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

"Ooh! Is last night's Law and Order on?"

"Probably." I ran into the bedroom and changed into my shorts and t-shirt, then ran back out and flopped on his couch and switched on his TV. "Are you hungry?" he called.

"Not really."

He pulled out a bag of chips, then came and sat next to me on the couch. I cuddled into his side. About half-way through the episode, I got sick of his dropping crumbs on me, so I poked him in the side. He gasped and flinched, obviously ticklish. I chuckled deep in my throat. "Please, don't," he pitifully begged.

"Why?"

"Because I prefer not to thrash around like an epileptic having a spasm."

"Oh. That's not a bad reason." I affectionately patted his stomach.

"Sierra?"

"What, Mike?" I looked up at him and suddenly found his mouth covering mine. For whatever reason, I was easily turned on and everything quickly progressed. In no time, he was practically throwing me on the bed. It was an amazing experience. When it was over, I was left with a feeling of utter completion. "Wow," I breathed as he plopped down beside me. "I had no idea how much I wanted that."

"I'm tempted to say me too, but that would be a lie."

"Huh. And I never got any extremely lustful vibes off you."

"I know. I can control myself, unlike some men in the world."

He snarled the last part. It shocked me. Then I remembered...Amy had been raped. That's why she killed herself. "Mike, do you wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what? What's to talk about? You know exactly why I feel like this."

"Well, I just thought...you have a point. I'm sorry."

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"I know." I rolled over and put my head on his chest. "Mike, do you think that sex could be a psychological trigger for you? I don't want to go all shrink on you, but it's possible. I mean, I know...that Amy...I know what happened. And you told me yourself that you struggled for years with any kind of intimacy."

"Yeah, but I'm getting over it. I got through this without thinking about it. It was only after."

"Ok. I'll let it go this time."

"I like that idea, and not because it means you'll get off my back."

I snorted. "Then why?"

"It means there will be a next time."

I smiled softly. "I'm leaning towards more than one next time."

"You know...I kind of was too."

"Mike?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry now." He just laughed.


End file.
